


That's Doable

by smilingsarah10



Series: That's Doable [1]
Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Be gentle, Fluff and Smut, M/M, My First Fanfic, The next part will be devastating so prepare your anus, This is the first of the series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-05-30 21:09:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6440902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smilingsarah10/pseuds/smilingsarah10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High School AU. Tutoring leads to feelings which leads to starting a band.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic of hopefully many. My beta reader and another mutual friend have liked this well enough for me to post it. This (the whole work) is the happier part of the story, so if you feel attached and want to live in blissful ignorance when it is done, I'm going to post the other part of this story separately and later. Be gentle: this is my first fic. I hope you enjoy!

Charles cringed when he heard the bass turn on so loud that the walls started to shake. He pulled the pillow over his head when one voice turned into many: each new voice getting louder to try and beat out the music for a chance in the spotlight. It was the last straw however when he heard the sound of glass shattering and screams of delight. To say he sprung out of bed would have been an understatement. He had his robe and glasses on in less than a second, and was down the stairs as fast as he could be. Livid, he moved through the particularly large crowd to the speakers and pulled the plug out of the wall socket. The music came to a grinding halt and all eyes were on him. With a soft but firm voice Charles spoke, “Sorry to, uh, kill the fun, but the party is over. You all know the rules.”  
And so they did. The people in his living room slowly filed out leaving the remnants of a party behind them. When all but one person and himself were in the room, Charles locked the door and turned to face the culprit of the party. “Dad, you know there are to be no parties on weekdays when I have a test, and under no circumstance is anyone to be in my liquor cabinet.”  
His father looked away sheepishly at best. Ever since his mother had died when he was a child, Charles could remember his father reverting back to almost a teenage rebellion. They had come close to losing the house and multiple assets more times than Charles liked to think about until he had stepped into control of their finances at 13. They were saved a few times by the allotment from his mother and the generous donations from his dad’s dad. Charles’ grandfather was a decorated war veteran as well as a doctor. He couldn’t stand to see his son so low, but pride kept him from intervening in his son’s descent. That meant that Charles was left to be responsible for the money that Grandfather Offdensen sent monthly as well as money from all of Charles’ side jobs.  
“Charles, you haven’t given me an allowance in weeks. How are we supposed to have any fun if you keep cutting off my supplies. Can’t you be a normal teenager for once and just think I’m a ‘cool dad’ for being so laid back and chill with everything? What teenager wouldn’t love to have a dad who threw parties all the time and let them do whatever they want?”  
This wasn’t a new conversation for Charles. His father’s parties only gained notoriety the longer he had them, so this was becoming a new ritual that Charles would rather not face. However, while he was tired of being responsible, he wasn’t tired of having a house over his head, food to eat, and a bed to sleep in, and from the conversations he kept having with his father, he knew that he was going to have to continue paying the price for being the breadwinner.  
“We agreed that we would double your allowance when you found a job but until then you won’t get anything. Normal teenagers don’t have to pay their houses bills or worry about their fathers throwing ragers the night before a test. You, uh…”  
The words weren’t said bitterly but with a matter of fact tone and look. What made Charles stop was his father’s tears followed by passing out. He wasn’t sure what his father had been mixing that night as his cocktails always ended up being chased by whatever drugs his friends could find. He just shook his head and gently lifted his dad off the floor. It was amazing how much muscle you could build when you had to carry dead weight up a flight of stairs and to bed almost every night. Once tucked in with water and the trashcan at arms-length for any possible emergencies, Charles trudged down the stairs to do damage control.  
It had been his cabinet that had been broken, but nothing else looked terrible. For a brief moment he considered refilling his dad’s alcohol shelf to prevent future casualties to his own, but he decided that was not only enabling but a waste of house finances. Instead, he would buy his dad a new suit to help him with the job search. In the meantime he started cleaning. He straightened some furniture, ran a vacuum to get up the glass, and made a note to place an order for another bourbon handle to be delivered. He hated when his father drank his good liquor, but there was not much to be done about that now.  
Looking at the digital clock he noted a time of 3:25 AM. In 3 hours, he would have to be up and showered for another day at school. He ran through his mental checklist for assignments and projects due. He had 4 AP classes and 3 college placement classes, so homework was how he spent most of his free time. A small part of him wanted to shake away the layers of responsibility and let loose for just one night, but he squelched that small part of him with some Southern Comfort he found in the back of the cabinet and went back upstairs to get some sleep. Just another day in the life of an 18 year old Valedictorian, right?

Nathan didn’t even blink when the large group of partygoers made their way past his house. Part of that was the regularity in which it happened: the Offdensen’s seemed to have parties two or more times a week. The other part was that his parents had recently soundproofed his walls after years of begging, so he literally didn’t hear the ruckus of the passing crowd. He did however see them because he couldn’t focus on the notes in front of him despite the silence.  
Looking up to see the time, Nathan ran his fingers up over his forehead through his hair. The noise that came from him when he realized that it was around 2 AM was a mix of a deep grunt and a groan. “That would make a good sound effect in that song,” he thought to himself pulling out his black song notebook. He flipped to the newest project and made a note of the grunty-groan noise before taking a look at the general layout of the music.  
Nathan wasn’t someone who you would traditionally consider smart. Honestly, he thought that school was a waste of his time. If he couldn’t understand the words, what was the point? Hence the reason he was looking at the music in his book as opposed to his notes for his finance test tomorrow. Music just made sense to him. If he picked up any instrument he knew how to play it with minimal tutoring. His parent’s didn’t see that as a useful talent though.  
They lived in an upper middle class neighborhood full of upper middle class “jack-offs”. Nathan could tell that his parents wanted him to act the part of traditional suburban student. So he went fishing and hunting with his dad without much grumbling, he brought home girls for his mother to fawn over regularly enough that she wouldn’t worry about his health, and he even joined the football team so that he could “show some interest in his schooling”. Football was a good outlet even though his teammates avoided him outside of the realm. They put him as tackle which he described as “the most brutal position” so he used it as a way to let out his weekly academic frustrations.  
The thought of frustrations brought him back to the present moment. Nathan’s guidance counselor had assured him that personal finance was the easiest math they offered at the school, but looking at the problems in front of him now, Nathan swore she was a liar. If he managed to fail one more test his mom said she was going to hire him a tutor, and that could absolutely not happen. Admitting he needed help was akin to admitting failure in his opinion, and Nathan Explosion did not fail.  
The two notebooks sat in front of him on the desk. One was basically empty aside from the horrendous problems he was avoiding looking into at all costs. The other was almost full and the pages were so covered that you wouldn’t be able to read it if you didn’t know what you were looking for. Resigning to his own fate, Nathan picked up the music book and turned to a familiar page.  
Nathan saw where his friend Skwisgaar had made a correction to the guitar part and tried playing through both the original and the correction in his head. He couldn’t really hear the correction on his own, so he picked up the guitar off the wall and started to play again. Skwisgaar had looked at the song originally and said with a straight face, “This ams dildoes. Does you not have ears?”  
Nathan appreciated the Swedish guy’s honesty even if he was often blunt about it. The new part did sound worlds better which helped the blow to Nathan’s ego at the time. He and Skwisgaar had basically filled the book since then with new more haunting and complicated melodies. They would joke that if high school didn’t work out they would start a metal band. It was a fun thought, but Nathan’s parents absolutely weren’t for it, so they focused on studying enough to at least graduate.  
Nathan appreciated his friendship with Skwisgaar for multiple reasons. One of the most prominent ones was their struggle with schooling. Skwisgaar had a language barrier to try and navigate while Nathan might as well have had the same problem. The Swede was also a musical genius, and Nathan never had to explain a tough section to him or have him create a counter melody where he thought one was necessary. If the two of them could just play more than one instrument at once, they would be set to be the best band in the world.  
Nathan heard a faint knock on his door at that moment. He threw his guitar back on the wall beside his bass, threw his books in his backpack, and opened the door. His mother stood there wiping the sleep from her eyes with her hair in rollers. “Nathan, sweetie, it’s three AM and your light is still on. It’s a school night. Wrap it up in there and go to bed.”  
With a good natured pat on his arm, his mom didn’t wait for him to say anything and headed back towards her room. Nathan shut his door. He looked forlornly at his instruments, upset he hadn’t been able to finish the song, but he knew that if his mom, or worse his dad, caught him awake again, he would be in more trouble than a song was worth. On that note, he packed his school bag and turned off his lights. He knew that he was going to fail the test in the morning so Nathan let his mind drift over the horror of having a tutor and who that tutor might possibly be.


	2. Have Some Class

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the accents in advance.

When the finance class’ test results came back, the bell curve was prominent. Most skimmed by with midline grades and were content. Nathan took one look at his test before ripping it in half and throwing it away. He was dreading the “tutor talk” he and his mom would inevitably have that night when he returned home. Skwisgaar grabbed his halves out of the trash and sat them with his own ‘C’ paper. “We can burn dis laters, ja?” Skwisgaar raised his eyebrows waiting for his friend to confirm or deny. “Ja, er… yeah I mean. Sure, whatever,” Nathan responded eloquently. Burning bad grades did seem kind of brutal so he was in. Skwisgaar nodded and went back to wrapping his long blonde hair around his finger until it looked like the circulation had been cut off. It looked like it would be a typical class for the two of them with neither taking notes.  
On the other side of the classroom, Charles was calculating his GPA and wondering if he would fall in class rank because he had gotten an A-. It was still the highest grade in the class but you could never be too careful if you wanted to stay on top. His current best friends were sitting to his left and right taking in their own grades. Toki, new to America from Norway, was really excited about getting a C+. Honestly, Charles was proud of him too. He had no idea what Toki said when a string of Norwegian left his friends mouth in his excitement, but he smiled and pat his arm with encouragement. That gesture seemed enough for Toki who looked like he had just won an award. Pickles on his other side was complaining about how hard he studied for him to just receive a B-. “That teacher’s fackin brootal dood.”   
Charles stifled a laugh. His friend’s accent never ceased to amuse him. Pickles looked like glam rock met metal in how he dressed, and it always surprised teachers when he was so intelligent. Charles studied his friend for a second. Pickles had one hand holding back his fiery, coarse dreadlocks, concern filling his eyes that were lined with black eyeliner just faintly enough no one would really notice. He had so many leather and rubber wristbands that it was hard to see the pale freckled skin underneath. Even sitting, you could tell he was a relatively small guy and he tried to accommodate by dressing eclectically. Compared to Toki who wore basically the same outfit (tshirt, pants, boots) everyday, Pickles was a culture shock.   
Charles was snapped out of his reverie by his teachers hand on his shoulder asking him if he could stay after class. His friends assured him that there would be a place for him at the lunch table, so he told his teacher, “Yes of course,” and the waited for the bell.  
By the time Charles got to the table, he was adequately confused. His friends were digging into their school lunches in a way that resembled rabid dogs being let loose on a piece of meat or starved jackals on their first hunt. Letting that add to his relatively negative mood, he unpacked his lunch in silence with calculated motions, his mind obviously elsewhere. He was halfway through his sandwich when Pickles surprised him with a direct question. “Right, Charlie?”  
“I’m sorry, uh, I seem to have missed the question.”   
Pickles smirked. “You can just say yes. Toki was just askin’ in a really round-about way if bein’ gay was okay here. I told him you would know plenty about that.”  
Charles blushed both indignantly and from embarrassment. His sexuality was really no one’s business but his own. Mad at what he thought was another insensitive joke from his friends, Charles went to snap a response, but when he met eyes with Toki and saw the genuine fear of being told no Charles softened. “Toki, uh, if you like guys that’s, uh, perfectly fine. You don’t need that, uh, validation from other people though.”  
Toki calmed down a bit before asking, “But whats happens when the ones you likes doesnts also likes the boys?”  
Pickles said, “Well dood ya just gotta let ‘em go.”  
Toki sighed, exasperated. Charles was beginning to wonder what was up with his friend when he followed his eyes. He seemed to be staring forlornly in the direction of the blonde Swede that hung around Nathan Explosion. “Toki, if you stare he’s definitely, uh, going to notice you and maybe not in a positive way.”  
It was Toki’s turn to blush and then stare at his now empty lunch tray. In an effort to divert the now very awkward lunch conversation Pickles asked, “So what was up with the teacher pulling ya aside?”  
“Well, uh,” Charles started, “I am going to be tutoring a student in finance apparently. He didn’t say who, only that I would be meeting the parent of this student after school, and that I would learn more then.”

Nathan looked down at his phone and grimaced. Skwisgaar pointed at the phone with his fork and gave a questioning look to his friend. Nathan just shrugged. Normally their silent conversations would end there but for some reason today the Swede was adamant. “You gots a distressing text, ja?”   
“Yeah,” Nathan’s reply was short and it was obvious that Skwisgaar wasn’t speaking again until Nathan elaborated. “My mom texted me to say she was meeting the tutor after school to start setting up ‘appointments’ for us to meet. She even sent the stupid fucking emoji with sunglasses. I just don’t understand why she’s so adamant about me having a tutor.”  
“Wells yous dids fails that last test,” seeing the glare from Nathan, Skwisgaar scowled and switched tactics. “Maybes you’ll’s gets a hot chick who will bangs yous and do all your homesquirks so yous passes anyways.”  
The thought made Nathan smirk a bit. His thoughts drifted to hot tutors and the potential for sex, and remained there for longer than he would ever admit until he noticed Skwisgaar looking at something behind him with a smirk that Nathan only saw when Skwisgaar was trying to take someone to bed. The difference in his normal sexual gaze and this one was that this time Nathan could tell that Skwisgaar was not purposefully doing it. It was distracted and intense, almost like a dream. Finally Nathan’s curiosity got the best of him and he spun in his seat to catch the girl that Skwisgaar was so intent on. Skwisgaar, seeing Nathan turn around, protested and swore, worried about what drawing attention to himself would do.   
In the direction that Skwisgaar was facing, there was only a table of guys. Nathan recognized flamboyant Pickles, the valedictorian Charles, and their quiet Norwegian friend, Toki. Toki seemed to be staring down at his lunch tray while the other two were chatting. Nathan turned back to Skwisgaar who was both scowling and blushing. Nathan laughed a bit seeing his friend so uncomfortable.   
“What ams so funny? You ams laughing like a dummy over nothings.” Skwisgaar was trying to pick back up some of his pride. He was also a little worried about how Nathan would perceive him if he found out his door swung both ways.   
“I just didn’t realized you were into dudes. I mean I don’t care. It’s, uh, a little gay. But you’re one of the most metal dudes I know. If you like dudes, and you’re metal, then liking dudes is metal in my book.”   
Skwisgaar couldn’t believe those words had left his friend’s mouth, but was grateful for the acceptance. He looked at the time and saw that lunch was wrapping up. “We ams going to be late if yous wants to sit around and talk about seksualities all damn day,” he said while getting his stuff together and lifting his backpack onto his shoulder.  
“Since when do you care about being late?” Nathan asked, confused. When Skwisgaar smirked and started to walk away, Nathan’s brain finally caught up. “Ohhhh, you were changing the subject so I would stop asking about your wanna-be boyfriend. I see. That’s doable.” The only response this got from Skwisgaar was a quick punch to Nathan’s arm.


	3. The First Meeting

Nathan leaned against the shower and sulked. He only had around 30 minutes before the tutor would arrive and he planned to spend that time completely alone. He hadn’t realized how quickly his mom would be notified of his grade, and he definitely wasn’t prepared to have his first tutoring session tonight.  
It was just like any other school night he had thought. He had gone to practice after school, gotten sufficiently sweaty, and caught a ride back to his house with a team mate. His first tip that something was different was seeing his dad’s truck in the driveway. The next was when both his parents greeted him at the door to welcome him home and tell him dinner would come before his shower. He had sat down at his usual spot at the table, smelling like 2 hours of football practice, and awaited the source of his parent’s strange behavior. They asked about his day, his practice, some girl he was supposedly dating that he had already forgotten about, then brought up the focus of the dinner conversation: the tutor.  
“I met him after school today with your teacher. His name is Charles. He’s your valedictorian, so shouldn’t you know him? Isn’t it wonderful that he can start tonight?” his mom started. The next 30 minutes felt like a barrage of the guy’s resume.  
“I heard he’s shooting for the ivy leagues. How ambitious!” His dad spouted.  
“He teaches classes down at the Y. Very community minded, that boy.”  
“Cindy told me that his father is a no good lay-about, and that he’s had to work to keep the house and everything. I’m sure it’s not that serious, ‘cause you know how she exaggerates, but imagine his work ethic if he has time for that and tutoring Nathan.”  
“I wonder if next week we could invite him over for dinner before tutoring.”  
After so much of this, Nathan shot up from his seat at the table slamming his fists down beside his half eaten dinner. “If you like wonder-boy so much, how about you just adopt him and fuckin’ disown me?” With some protest from his parents about his language and actions, he stomped up the stairs, slammed the door of the bathroom, and ended up where he was now.   
It felt good to let the almost burning water hit his sore muscles and wash the grime from his hair. He knew that it might be effeminate, but he cared greatly about the appearance of his hair. He kept it long so it required the proper attention. When he first decided to grow it out and keep it that way, he had watched an embarrassing amount of YouTube videos about hair upkeep and then went to the store to get higher end products that he swore were for his mother to keep it nice. He went through his usual hair routine with no regard to time. Before he knew it, there was a knock on the bathroom door.  
“Nathan, he’ll be here in 10 minutes. I expect you out here in 5.” His mother was being terse, as was usual for her when she felt like her son was being overly dramatic. Nathan just grunted in response, and he heard her walk away. He wrapped the towel around his waist and went through the process of drying his hair. He didn’t really give a damn when his mom wanted him ready. He had a routine and he was going to follow it. Once his hair was blow dried, he pulled it up into a bun to get it off his neck.   
Finally deciding to face his demise with the tutor, Nathan walked out of the bathroom and towards his bedroom. He heard chatter from downstairs and figured once he threw some clothes on that’s where he would go. He walked into his room and shut the door behind him, throwing off his towel at the threshold to find new underwear and pajamas. Immediately, he heard a small gasp and someone’s throat clear.   
“Oh God, uh, I’m, uh, terribly, TERRIBLY, sorry. Your mother said this was, uh, the best place to wait for you. I can, uh, leave if, uh, you need some space to get ready.” Charles was already getting out of Nathan’s desk chair, eyes everywhere but the very naked Nathan. Nathan on the other hand had picked up his towel the moment he heard Charles clear his throat and was grabbing the necessary clothing to head out of the room. Turning red and not bothering to respond to Charles, he was out of the room in an instant.   
Because Nathan shut the door, Charles was spared hearing Nathan’s heated conversation with his parents downstairs. Instead, he sat in silence trying to process the most embarrassing entrance he had ever made. “Where did it go wrong?” he contemplated. He had shown up five minutes early as per usual. The Explosion’s were a pleasant couple, offering him tea and a dessert while he waited for Nathan and apologizing for having to stay so late. He had scheduled 3 hours from 8 PM to 11 PM to fit both of their schedules. Both were busy young men; it was understandable to have late night study sessions if need be. They had escorted him around the house, and then to Nathan’s room. They had again apologized for their son’s rude lateness and headed downstairs if Charles needed anything.   
He hadn’t been sitting for maybe a minute when Nathan came in the door. Charles had not meant to stare: Nathan glistening from a hot shower and still sporting a post workout glow in just a towel was more than enough to fluster Charles. When he dropped the towel, Charles thought he would need his own shower, and let his eyes fall anywhere other than Nathan. He knew in his head that he would cross so many lines if he let this appreciation go too far even as a post-situational thought and almost immediately squandered it. It was in that moment of collectedness that Nathan chose to reenter the room. Fully clothed, he met Charles’s eyes without hesitation or embarrassment.   
Extending his hand for a handshake, he calmly stated, “Sorry. Welcome to my room, Charles.”  
“You ready to, uh, get to work? I can leave if you still need a minute,” Charles followed cautiously. He still felt really out of sorts, but if Nathan was ready to work, so was Charles.   
Nathan responded by grunting and pulling a notebook out of his backpack. Charles followed suit. “Alright let’s start by comparing notes. What do you have?”  
Charles took a look at Nathan’s notes. He had written down around 1/12 of what the teacher had actually said. Each phrase was followed with bars of music and musical doodles. Charles looked up to make a comment and found himself silenced by the intensity of Nathan’s green eyes. His expression was full of question; his gaze trapping Charles in silence and seemingly searching his soul for answers to unasked questions. Finally Charles broke the gaze. “Your notes are, uh, lacking at best. How about we, uh, you, uh, just use mine.”  
Nathan nodded once in acknowledgement and took his notebook back from Charles. “Yeah copying your notes is doable.” Charles was relieved when Nathan took his eyes off of him and started transcribing notes across notebooks. “However, I don’t work in silence well. You’ll have to talk to me the whole time.”  
Charles raised his eyebrows. “Well, uh, what do you want me to talk about?”  
“Literally, whatever. Talk about you. If you’re going to be around me 6-9 hours a week, we are going to be friends,” Nathan paused his notes to look up at Charles and smirk, “Besides, you’ve already seen me naked and we haven’t even been to dinner.”   
At that Charles blushed and took the moment to clean his glasses with his shirt. “Um,” he started eloquently, “there’s not a lot to know about me.” He stopped again. He wasn’t sure how much information was too much information, and after so many blunders that night, he did not want to put himself into anymore awkward situations.   
“Come on,” Nathan reasoned with him, “You just have to talk until I get a page done. Then I can tell you about me. We can go back and forth until 11.”  
Charles relented. “Alright then,” he started shakily at first. “Start simple,” he thought to himself. Figuring that Nathan wasn’t one to talk about school, he started with his jobs. Charles told him about the classes he taught in martial arts and yoga at the community center. He did so many classes and private sessions that he basically made between $500 and $1000 dollars a week. He had just finished describing the colors of belts and what they meant when it was Nathan’s turn.  
Nathan took over talking while Charles took the much needed break. Nathan focused on his music: his desire to start a metal band someday, Skwisgaar and his songs, and how he felt way more connected to music than he ever did to school. He showed Charles his instruments and black notebooks filled with song inspiration. All this gave Charles an idea.  
“What would you do if I said I could help you combine music and finance?” Charles asked. Nathan gave a satisfactory grunt.  
Charles then spent the rest of the time re-teaching Nathan finance from the perspective of running and managing a band. Nathan was genuinely excited about learning for what felt like the first time in a long time. His disappointment was genuine when his mom knocked on the door to tell them it was 11:15. Nathan walked Charles to the door where they exchanged a very awkward handshake. As Charles walked towards his house, he never would have guessed that Nathan was excitedly contemplating his next tutoring session.


	4. Financial Assets

Charles texted Pickles right after leaving the gym before heading over to Nathan’s house. This was their third tutoring session, and ever since the first one Charles had liked to make sure he looked exceptional every time he was there. That being said, he snapped a picture of his outfit and sent it over. He had opted for a less formal look tonight. He had on skintight yoga capris with a larger hoodie and some Nikes. Pickles texted back his approval followed by, “Are you trying to bang him? That would be the only reason you’d be wearing such tight pants,” followed by the winking face emoji. Charles blushed, intensely. While it was true that he had considered (fantasized really) about Nathan since their first encounter, he still knew that nothing would come of it. Nathan’s presence didn’t give off anything but straight, which was an unfortunate but expected inconvenience in Charles life. However, just because the man was straight didn’t mean that Charles couldn’t flirt. He shot back a text to Pickles, “He’s straight. Don’t tempt me.”   
“So is spaghetti until it gets hot ;)” Pickles responded. Charles didn’t bother to respond.  
Charles grabbed his house keys and moved to the door. His dad had fallen asleep on the couch at who knows what time today and hadn’t moved since then. Sighing, Charles called his Grandfather to remind him of where he would be, left a note for his father which promised to order him a pizza when he was awake as he would be out pretty late, then walked out his front door, locking it behind him. Charles babied his father. He had promised to start job hunting over two weeks ago, and yet there he was asleep throughout the day on the couch again. It was exhausting having to be the primary breadwinner for the family. Why did it have to be Charles’s responsibility?  
Charles cleared the negative thoughts from his head as he strolled up to the doors of the Explosion home. It was 7:50, and Charles knew that Nathan was never on time for anything. He knocked anyway and was greeted by Mr. Explosion. “Oh hello, Charles!” His large hand clapped down onto Charles shoulder in a familiar greeting. “Nathan is upstairs playing around with Skwisgaar if you wanna’ head on up there. He assured me that Skwisgaar was leaving at 8 so you should still be good to start on time.” Charles nodded along to what Mr. Explosion was saying as he headed up the stairs.  
He took a moment to pause outside of Nathan’s door. He realized that for some reason he was nervous. Like Skwisgaar would say anything; Charles was almost completely sure that he and Toki had started some form of relationship that they wanted kept quiet. This thought of what could be considered blackmail gave him the courage to knock on the door. He jumped a little when the door swung open after only a moment. Nathan greeted him, shirtless with workout shorts on. “Charlie! Shit man I had almost forgot you’d be coming at 8. Skwisgaar and I were just wrapping up if you wanna just sit for a minute.”  
Charles stepped into the room a bit blindsided by Nathan’s apparent new nickname for him and the fact that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. He registered that Skwisgaar was in the desk chair, fingering what Charles assumed was his personal guitar, so seating was limited. Nathan shut the door and sat back down on the bed, picking up his own guitar and motioning for Charles to also have a seat on the bed. Perching on the edge, Charles noted the smug grin on Skwisgaar’s face as they started playing again. Their music was good. It had some really haunting highs and lows that Charles could appreciate, and he had to admit that he was relatively lost in the music when someone’s phone alarm went off.   
Nathan and Skwisgaar started packing up their instruments. Skwisgaar looked at Nathan and said, “Yous good at the writings and creatings but not the best rhythm guitarist. I’m too fast for you and yous dildoes at timing anyways. My friend Tokis is really good. I bring him next time ja?”   
Nathan sputtered at his friend’s criticism. He knew that he was right. He was good at playing the guitar but he could definitely be better. So he just responded with, “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”  
With that Skwisgaar smiled and got up to leave. Turning around, it looked as if he was going to say something sarcastic, but the look Nathan gave him was silencing. Skwisgaar scowled and waved as he left the room.  
“What was that about?” Charles asked once the door was closed.   
He could have sworn Nathan blushed as he said, “Nothing,” and pulled his finance notebook out.   
Charles brushed it off and decided to just jump right in. “Alright then, uh, where were we with the band financials?”

Nathan absolutely couldn’t fucking concentrate. He had taken the desk chair and that left Charles sitting on his bed. As the first hour wore on, Charles had bent over exactly 3 times. Normally, Nathan wasn’t into guys. However, Charles had sparked something inside him that he’d never really felt before, and he had started to question his sexuality. He and Skwisgaar had been talking about it when Charles had shown up early. When Nathan had very seriously sat down with his friend and told him about these feelings that were new to him, Skwisgaar had just laughed. “It ams soundings like yous having your first crush,” he had practically giggled.   
Nathan was uncomfortable by his friend’s laughter. “Dude. Be serious. This is a real fucking problem for me.”  
Skwisgaar sobered up a little and continued, “Yous just gots to explorers it. Try the flirtings a little. If it feels right, yous will know.” Nathan nodded along with Skwisgaar’s words. All of the sudden, the sober air left the room and Skwisgaar finished by laughing, “Just takes off your shirt. If you catches him starings you’ll know hes into yous.”  
Nathan had scowled but then jokingly taken his friend’s advice. He had felt better until Charles had shown up early, and he hadn’t had time to put his shirt back on. Nathan had caught Charles staring when he thought he wasn’t paying attention a few times already, but he couldn’t decide whether it was a positive or negative stare. Then there was the bending over and how those pants looked on Charles’s…  
“Assets.”  
Nathan looked at Charles like he was lost so Charles sat up from where he was laying half on and half off the bed.  
“Assets. Nathan are you paying any attention?”  
Nathan blinked again, hard and shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Ass…ets. Um. Sorry I missed that.”  
“Well we were, uh, talking about band assets: Things that were taxable versus nontaxable as far as the government is concerned. However, if you, uh, need a break, I’m a little tired of talking finance, too.”  
Nathan nodded. He knew as well as Charles that both of them being distracted would get them nowhere. “What were you thinking we would do instead?” asked Nathan not knowing how to proceed.   
Charles smirked. “Well, we could, uh, just talk some more. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you over the last week.”  
Nathan realized that it was his turn to talk about himself. He talked about football for a little bit, venting about his asshole coach and teammates. Charles filled in the thoughtful silences with gossip about whoever the subject was on at the time. He wasn’t necessarily good with people, but Pickles was, and Charles was an information hoarder. Nathan then switched the topic back to music and his aspirations to start a band. “Skwisgaar is really good at guitar. I’m pretty average at it, but he could outplay anyone with only one hand. I’m hoping this Toki kid is as good at rhythm as Skwisgaar says. Then we will just be missing a drummer and a bass player.” Nathan was spinning in his desk chair at this point, and Charles found the sight endearing.   
“Well, I can say that from what little I’ve heard him play, Toki is good. He sometimes plays along with Pickles. Speaking of Pickles, he’s an excellent drummer and vocalist. If you’re looking for someone, you won’t find any better than him.” Charles felt good getting to boast about his best friend if even for only a second.   
Nathan considered this, and a comfortable pause filled the room. Charles thought about calling it an early night because he doubted they would get any further, but then Nathan cleared his throat. Charles looked up to find those intense green eyes locked with his again. “Would you like to learn some guitar?”  
Charles could only nod. Nathan got out both of his guitars, leaving his bass looking lonely on the wall. He handed one to Charles and kept his favorite for himself. Nathan’s mind was racing. He had concocted this plan to flirt with Charles, but hadn’t considered it until a moment ago thinking it was too much. When Charles started talking about Pickles, Nathan got unusually and unfairly jealous, and all of the sudden the plan to flirt put itself into action. Nathan walked Charles through how to hold the guitar and tried to show him a couple of notes. Charles was a quick learner, but kept stumbling and getting frustrated at not being perfect. Finally, Nathan put the last part of his plan into action. “You’re doing fine, but it’s not quite right yet. Here, let me help.”  
With that, Nathan sat his guitar and moved swiftly behind Charles. Charles was straddled between his legs, Nathan’s hulking figure easily wrapping around him. Charles had never really felt as small as he did in this moment. Nathan placed his hands over Charles’s on the guitar. With this guidance, Charles played a few different scales. However, he knew that he wasn’t actually learning anything because of how distracted he was. Nathan was practically growling each chord into his ear as Charles let Nathan’s hands control him. Nathan hadn’t ever been this physically close to him, and it set Charles’s brain haywire. He smelled so good: a mixture of mahogany and pine. He couldn’t help but let his mind wander back to seeing Nathan naked and imagining what the results would be if they were both naked now.   
Nathan’s alarm chose that moment to go off, signaling that it was 11:00PM. Charles practically flew off the bed, embarrassed about both the situation he found himself in and his drifting thoughts. He looked back at Nathan and saw him smirk. It was a cocky smirk that meant Nathan knew exactly what he was doing to Charles. Charles gently removed the guitar from himself and handed it to Nathan.   
“Well, uh, I’m gonna, uh, head out. See you, um, tomorrow?” Charles turned what was meant to be a statement into a question. Nathan seemed to smirk harder. “Yeah. See you tomorrow, Charlie.” Charles grabbed his bag and ran out of the house.   
Nathan kept the smirk on his face until he went to bed. His experiment in flirting had worked better than he could have imagined. Now he just had to wait for the right moment to see how far he could push. In that moment, he noticed that Charles in his haste to leave had dropped his notebook. Nathan picked it up to see if it had his number in it to return it. Sure enough, on the inside cover was Charles’s number. Nathan shot a quick text to it just saying who it was and that he would bring it to class the next day. Charles sent back, “Thanks.” Nathan couldn’t tell if he was still just flustered or if he just was short and punctual over text messaging. Either way, Nathan was just pleased that he had gotten Charles’s number.

Charles had immediately called Pickles when he left the Explosion house. Pickles answered knowing that if it was a call it must be important. Charles filled him in on everything that had happened. “Dood,” Pickles started, “That’s some hard core flirtin’.”   
“You think it was, uh, flirting?” Charles asked. He had always been oblivious to others’ advances. “I was afraid he was, uh, making fun of me.”  
“Nah, dood. Sounds to me like he was just pushin’ yer buttons. That means the ball’s in your court now though. What are you gonna’ do?”  
“I’ll get back to you on that. I’m, uh, headed into my house now. Goodnight, Pickles.”  
“Later, loverboy.”  
And with that, Charles walked into his house. His dad was still lying on the couch, but now he was surrounded by vomit and what looked like his own filth. Concerned, Charles checked for a pulse and breathing. When he had confirmed that his father was indeed alive, he carried him once again upstairs to his room. He laid a glass of water and an aspirin by the bedside table, as well as a note detailing his schedule for tomorrow with money for food. Then he went downstairs and dealt with the mess. He cleaned to the best of his ability, and then made a note to call a cleaner to finish off the carpet and the couch. By the time he walked back to his room, his mental and emotional exhaustion kicked in. He saw a text on his phone, but barely registered it was from Nathan. He simply replied, “Thanks.” By the time his head hit his pillow, he was already asleep.


	5. Lazy Sunday

On a lazy Sunday afternoon, Nathan looked at his schedule for the upcoming week. Usually, he had relied on his mom to keep track of where he was going and what he was doing, but Charles had brought over a spare planner and helped Nathan get in the habit of writing it down for himself. Charles had mumbled something about if he had to be the head of the household sooner than he had thought, what Nathan would do, but then moved on to explain color coding and never double booking. With that being said, Nathan had carefully laid out his week. Charles had been tutoring him either two or three times a week for three weeks now. They met from 8-11 PM. Nathan’s football practice went from 4-6 after school every day except game day. This meant that the ragtag group that might be forming a band could meet from 7-8 every day that they wanted. Nathan had been afraid to ask his mom about the band, but she had genuinely been excited that he was making friends. She said as long as Nathan maintained a good grade in finance they could meet and have snacks every night, and that she, “Blamed it on Charles’s good influence.”  
Nathan smirked at the thought of Charles being a good influence. Yes he had really helped him understand finance, but at this point they were just friends working on homework and the rest of life together. Charles had even gone so far as to stop accepting payment from Nathan’s mom. In the last few weeks, their friendship had really shown through. It was even more than friendship at times, although Charles had been playing really fucking hard to get much to Nathan’s chagrin. He had tried everything that might take their flirting to action, to no avail. He could always take the traditional route and ask him out on a date.   
Just as that thought passed through Nathan’s head, he received a text message. “Speak of the devil,” he muttered under his breath. Charles didn’t text frequently. Most of the time they were just one word responses or no response at all. Nathan didn’t take it personally. He knew how busy Charles stayed just from the conversations they’d had while studying. It was bizarre to get a text from him at all, much less one that said, “Hey. Are you busy this afternoon into the evening?”  
Nathan glanced at his planner. He never had much on the weekends. It was his break from school and football, so he usually spent it sleeping or editing his music. His week was packed with activities that revolved around other people so it was nice to take the days of the weekend to relax and be alone with the exception of an occasional party. He would say that it was because he had nothing better to do, but he was excited that Charles had reached out to him to possibly hang out. Sometimes Nathan wondered whether their friendship was purely academic or if he forced the friendship onto Charles. It was an unfounded fear, but the validation that it was untrue pleased Nathan nonetheless.   
“Not busy,” Nathan started to type but then deleted it. Should he be a smartass? Should he attempt to flirt? He retyped, “Never too busy for you. ;) Why?” Before he could analyze the text and come to the conclusion that it was a bit too much, he hit send and flipped his phone facedown.   
To pass the time until Charles texted him back or chose not to because Nathan had embarrassed him, Nathan started thinking about the band. They would set up in his basement. His parents had sound proofed the basement when Nathan first started getting into music, so they didn’t have to worry about practicing too loud. Their first band meeting would be Monday. His mom had snacks prepared already, and had made sure Nathan had contacted his “new little friends” to check for allergies. Why his mom thought this was a playdate and not a band meeting, Nathan couldn’t figure out, but he would never say no to free snacks.   
“How much time has fuckin passed?” Nathan thought to himself as he grouchily flipped his phone back over. One minute. Not nearly as long as he had expected. Did time move slower when he thought to himself? Maybe he should be doing something else. As he reached for his guitar on the wall his phone went off. THUNK.   
Nathan being so excited that he had gotten a text back fell face first onto his desk. He looked down to where his elbows had caught the desk. “Probably going to bruise.” He scowled at his own stupidity, and then remembered his reason for falling. He picked his phone up to see what Charles had said.  
“Do you want to come over to my place? My dad is out with some friends until tomorrow. I didn’t really want to go out, but I also don’t want to be alone.” Nathan read the text twice over: quickly the first time, then slower to see if he could pick up any hints of flirtation. They were going to be all alone in the Offdensen house. Was he going to make a move, or was it purely out of boredom? He wouldn’t find out until he went. He threw on jeans and a black tee, checked his hair in the mirror, then headed down the stairs.  
His parents were shocked to see Nathan emerge from his room dressed to go out on a Sunday. He looked at their shocked expression and cleared his throat. “Charles has asked if I could come over for the night. Is that ok?”  
His dad was the first one to shake off his shock. “Will you be coming home tonight or staying over there?” Nathan hadn’t really considered that a possibility until now. “Uh. I’ll ask when I get there and come back to get stuff before bedtime. Would that be doable?”  
“Just remember that it’s a school night. I know Charles is plenty responsible, but if you stay there don’t you dare stay up too late and miss school,” his mom lectured. Nathan just rolled his eyes. Whatever the reasoning for lecturing, he was just happy to be allowed to go over, and maybe stay over. He grabbed his wallet and keys from beside the door and headed down the street.   
It wasn’t until he was almost to the front steps of the Offdensen house that he realized he hadn’t responded to Charles’s text. Nathan figured it didn’t matter and knocked on the door anyways. After a few minutes of waiting he tried ringing the bell instead.  
Charles heard the knock on the door from upstairs, but was so intent on waiting for Nathan to text back that he ignored it. When the bell rang however he decided he would go and check who was here. Because he was alone, he walked downstairs in just his jeans. He checked the peephole, and saw Nathan on the front steps. Charles scrambled to grab a hoody from the coat rack, then stopped remembering a couple weeks ago when Nathan had very blatantly turned him on. Now was the perfect opportunity for payback. Charles put his best smirk on and then opened the door.  
“Uh, hey,” Nathan started, “you’ve got a pretty nice house.”   
Charles couldn’t help but laugh at Nathan’s awkwardness. Plus, Nathan’s blush was unusually cute, if you could call anything about someone that large and imposing cute. “Just, uh, make yourself at home. I ordered pizza for later. If you’re, uh, ok with that?”   
“Sure. Yeah. Pizza is good.” Nathan said staring at the muscles of Charles’s abdomen. Charles could tell that he was trying to be discrete and failing miserably. Nathan kicked off his shoes and stepped into the actual house. “So, what will we do until the pizza gets here?”


	6. The Moment You've Been Waiting For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can we all say finally?

Charles hadn’t really thought that through. “Well, uh, I have board games if you’re into that. I’ve got a TV hooked up to a DVD player and some video games. That’s, uh, up in my room. We could go up there if you’d, uh, be ok with that?”  
It was Nathan’s turn to smirk. “Sure. That’s doable. I bet I can help us figure out what to do once we are up there.” Charles wasn’t exactly sure what he meant. It was so hard to tell if Nathan was being overly friendly or flirtatious. Still, he led Nathan upstairs to the master bedroom. Charles had taken over the bedroom when it was obvious that he was going to be the man of the house and it had just stuck. He had very adult tastes in furniture and style. The room was painted a neutral but decorated with dark, rich colors. The bed was an elaborate four post king size bed with enough pillows that you could make another bed from them alone. There was a small sitting area to the side with a closed wooden entertainment system and two large leather couches and a chrome and glass coffee table.  
“Damn,” Nathan stopped at the doorway. “Your room is fuckin’ rad.”   
Charles smiled and said thank you. For a second they just stood there in an awkward silence. When Charles looked at Nathan, he caught him mid glance from Charles’s ass up his body. By the time Nathan’s eyes connected with Charles’s, both were sufficiently turned on. Nathan looked unashamed and lusty. Charles balked at the intensity of Nathan’s gaze. It only took him a minute to come to his senses. “Like what you keep staring at?”  
The tease in Charles’s voice was what ended up setting him off. It was torture watching Charles flaunt his muscles around and not know if he was into Nathan. So Nathan decided in that moment that he’d make the first move. Charles was leaning against the wall, so Nathan just moved one hand to the wall right beside Charles face and leaned in close to his face, effectively trapping Charles against the wall. “If I said I, uh, yes, would you stop teasing me with it so much?” Nathan tried to be smooth but stumbled over his words. What he lacked in elegance however, he made up for in physical presence. All Charles could manage to get out was, “What’s the, uh, fun in not teasing you?”  
In one fluid motion, Nathan picked up Charles and pinned him. Charles gasped into Nathan’s shoulder when his back made contact with the wall, and then Nathan’s lips were on his and it felt like his brain was exploding. Or maybe that was from his head connecting to the unforgiving surface. He didn’t particularly care as long as he was making out with Nathan. He moaned as Nathan’s lips moved from his lips to his neck to his collarbones. What started as surprisingly gentle kisses quickly turned to rough scraping bites. Nathan was unrelenting in his dominance of the situation, and Charles was unusually turned on. He rolled his hips to grind against Nathan causing the bigger man to groan in a very pleasing way. Charles could feel Nathan’s erection through his jeans and decided that it was time to finish undressing.   
Nathan was surprised when Charles managed to not only unpin himself from the wall, but tackle Nathan to the ground all without breaking the kiss. His shoulders scraped against the carpet in a way that would have been unpleasant had he not been so focused on Charles grinding his hips into his. Nathan’s moans were intoxicating, so Charles teased him for a moment or so more before undoing his fly and pulling off his pants. Nathan was going to comment on the unevenness of the situation when he saw Charles’s surprised face. “What?” he asked feigning innocence.   
“I just, uh, thought you had on, uh, underwear.” Charles face got redder as he finished speaking. Nathan chuckled and propped himself up on his forearms. “Did I throw you off? It’s not anything you haven’t seen before.”   
Charles was absolutely red now from blushing. He took a moment to appreciate the man in front of him: the way his hair fell relaxed around his shoulders, the smirk on his face that matched the mischief and hunger in his green eyes, and the general layout of his body. Nathan had tanned, toned muscles from dedication to sports that matched his drive to succeed. His eyes wandered lower to…  
“Damn,” Charles whispered. He had been with many guys before, and he had indeed seen Nathan naked before, but seeing Nathan now, hard and standing at attention, Charles was a bit intimidated. His experience with men bigger in stature had been that they were averagely or less than averagely endowed, but Nathan was large in all regards. Charles felt like he was in a dream and couldn’t control himself as he gently kissed up Nathan’s thighs moving himself to be between his legs. Nathan shifted to accommodate Charles presence there. Something about seeing Charles on his knees between his legs turned him on more than he could articulate. Charles had looked at him with such appreciation and want. It had only further riled him up.   
Charles switched from kissing to trailing his tongue lazily in circles everywhere but where Nathan wanted it the most. After it looked like Nathan was getting used to that teasing, Charles switched to a combination of different kisses, bites, and licking. Nathan wasn’t used to so much foreplay or teasing. “I never took you for a tease,” he accidentally almost shouted as Charles bit a particularly sensitive area on his thigh. The smile that spread across Charles’s face could have been described as sinister if not for the playful gleam in his eyes. “You haven’t taken me at all yet,” he responded. He took that opportunity to bring his hands into the mix, teasing Nathan more. “Please, Charlie,” Nathan begged.  
Charles relented and licked from the base of Nathan’s dick to the tip. The amount of teasing had left Nathan desperate and panting. Charles wrapped his lips around the head and proceeded to suck, moving slowly at first to draw out Nathan’s low moans then quicker as he got comfortable with the girth of his dick. Nathan knew from previous partners that his penis took an adjustment period. He put his hand on Charles’s head wrapping his fingers through his hair and pushing down a little in subtle encouragement. Charles’s nails raked up and down the back of Nathan’s thighs and his ass. He looked up into Nathan’s eyes as he sucked. He knew that Nathan carried a lot of expression in his eyes, but it hadn’t held a candle to how intense Nathan’s eyes were then. He could tell Nathan was getting close. “Fuck, Charles. I’m gonna’ c…”   
In that moment, Charles’s cell phone went off loudly startling him into pulling away from Nathan. Nathan, unable to hold out any longer came with a disappointed groan.   
“OH FUCK,” Charles yelled in pain as Nathan’s jizz hit him in the face and got into his eye.   
Nathan was on his feet and attempting to help Charles faster than Charles thought was possible. “Oh mother fucker. I am so sorry. Shit, wow, that fucking sucked. I mean not your blowjob, that was fuckin’ great, but the fact that I… in your face, well your eye. Shit.”  
As much as it hurt, Charles was actually ok. He was embarrassed again, but otherwise he had managed to wipe his face off and blink through some tears. When he finally opened his eyes, he was surprised to see how concerned Nathan’s face looked. “Oh my God, Charles, your eye…” Nathan didn’t even finish his sentence, letting the words fade to silence as his hand cupped Charles’s face. Charles grinned sheepishly as the doorbell rang, no longer worried about his eye. “You can make it up to me later.”  
He grabbed Nathan’s shirt and threw it on as he walked down the stairs to meet the pizza guy at the door.


	7. He Did What In Your Eye?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love these boys so *guitar screeching* much. Thanks to everyone who is reading this and following along. I have plans for at least 4-5 more chapters in this part of the series and then a couple more after the heartbreak that you can choose to opt out of if devastation isn't your thing.   
> Thanks to my dearest wife for proofreading all of this mess.

“HE DID WHAT IN YER EYE?”   
Pickles had been worried when Charles hadn’t shown up for morning classes. The last time Charles had missed school was when he was deathly ill and trying to take care of himself. So when he didn’t show up at lunch, Pickles ducked out the back door of the cafeteria to go check on his friend. His motorcycle was parked in his usual spot. He pulled a spare helmet out of the sidecar and drove around the locked student gate. Sometimes his disregard for rules came in handy.   
He sped over to the neighborhood that Charles lived in. From the state of the driveway, Charles’s dad was out somewhere. He wondered if Charles was even home, but decided he’d go in and check anyways. Charles had given him a key to the front door the first time Pickles’s dad had thrown him out. It had always been a second home to him, and Charles had enjoyed having a friend with similar dad problems. Pickles took his shoes off at the door; it was never necessary but he felt that it was out of respect for Charles.   
He unceremoniously tossed his helmet onto the couch and walked around downstairs looking for Charles. There wasn’t a sound anywhere in the house. Confused, Pickles made his way upstairs. He peeked into Charles’s dad’s room. Nobody. There was also no one in the bathroom, although all of the things normally on the counter top had been knocked into the floor. It looked like the effects in the shower were in the same state. Pickles considered the thought that maybe Charles had been mugged, but the house was locked up tight to his knowledge and he hadn’t seen anything broken. Continuing down the hallway, Pickles noticed the door to Charles’s room cracked. He crept up and cautiously pushed the door open. Everything was in disarray. The couch had been flipped over, there was a hole in one wall, the floor looked like Charles’s dresser had puked on it, and the bed clothes were everywhere but the bed. Pickles was about to call out to his best friend just to make sure he was there when his eyes finally fell on the bed itself.   
The first body Pickles saw was way too big to be Charles. Upon closer inspection, Pickles noticed long black hair and a very sculpted ass. The rippling back muscles as this particular mass rolled over in sleep caused Pickles’s heart to beat faster. “Stupid body,” Pickles thought, “That must be Nathan. Don’t get any ideas about Charles’s man.” Now that Nathan had rolled over, Pickles caught sight of Charles looking very content even in sleep. Although they weren’t cuddled up together now, it was obvious to Pickles that they had been since whenever they fell asleep. He glanced around the room trying to find their cell phones and chargers to take downstairs and charge. He eventually found them, both dead as he suspected, and carried them with him to the kitchen.  
After rooting around in the fridge, Pickles found all the necessary things to make breakfast: this was the fastest and easiest method of getting Charles out of bed without him panicking and using whatever martial arts he studied to kick his “attacker’s” ass. Once the coffee was brewing and he had two different pans going with fried eggs and bacon cooking, it wasn’t long before a very sleepy looking Charles had defensively padded his way down to the kitchen. Blinking back sleep, it took him a moment to realize that Pickles was not a home invader who really loved cooking in other people’s houses, that it was a Monday, and judging by the light coming through the kitchen window, he was very late to school, and that he had accidentally come downstairs in nothing but his boxers.   
Pickles started smirking at the sight of his disheveled friend. “Is there a part of ya’ that’s naht marked up there Charlie?”  
Charles turned very red and instead of answering, walked over to the coffee pot and poured a cup of hot black coffee. As the coffee started to clear away the cobwebs in his head, Charles remembered that there was a very naked Nathan still upstairs sleeping in his bed, and judging by the presence of their phones plugged in down here, Pickles had definitely seen them together.   
When Pickles finished breakfast, he made Charles a plate and sat it in front of him. “Ya gahtta’ eat so thet ya can recover from whatever vicious animal attacked ya last night.” Pickles words were playful, but his demeanor meant that Charles wasn’t leaving the table until he had given him all the details from the night before. Pickles was wheezing from laughter, and Charles had only gotten to when the pizza guy had shown up. The night had definitely improved from there, and as Charles explained and the bruises, marks, and state of the room implied, Charles and Nathan had figured out how to make it work really well, really quickly. Pickles listened to the whole story, prompting and poking fun at Charles where needed, before handing over his eye drops to try and clear up Charles’s most noticeable problem.   
“Last time I checked the clock, it was 3:30 AM and that was before the, uh, sex in the bathroom,” Charles finished as he put the drops in his eye. “I, uh, don’t actually know when we fell asleep.”  
“It was 5:00 AM,” came a rumble from the doorway to the kitchen. Nathan was leaned against the doorway, just out of sight from where Charles and Pickles were talking. Charles had no idea how long he had been standing there, but he had managed to get a cup of coffee and almost finish it without Charles or Pickles noticing. He nodded a greeting at Pickles, and walked up behind Charles to ruffle his hair. All he had on was his boxers, and both Charles and Pickles were staring. Normally, Nathan shrunk away from direct attention, but after last night he decided to flaunt his body a bit. He was covered in small bruises from bites and kissing, and his back had noticeable scratch marks from Charles. Pickles stared in awe and let his mind wonder to what it might be like to be Charles.  
As quickly as the thought came, Pickles pushed it from his mind. Nathan had given him a look that let him know he had been caught staring, but luckily he chose not to say anything. Charles playful swatted in Nathan’s general direction. “Ok, you’re just, uh, showing off at this point. Go put your damn clothes on.” Nathan winked in their general direction, grabbed some bacon, and headed back up the stairs.   
Pickles chose that moment to excuse himself. “Go get yer boyfriend. I’ll be here when yer ready to go somewhere other than this brothel.”  
Charles followed Nathan up the stairs, not to be seen until it was time to head ‘home from school’ to Nathan’s house.


	8. Grandfather Offdensen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't realize it was going to get angsty but HERE WE ARE.  
> So sorry about that y'all.

The band had settled into a comfortable routine. Nathan and Skwisgaar wrote the music and had managed to bond with Pickles who was surprisingly adept at music composition. Toki, who was not very good at writing music, stayed to the side and added in commentary about the various harmonies that Skwisgaar wanted. They had even managed to find a bassist, William Murderface, who was shitty at reading and writing music, but was good at listening and learning. Charles had taken over publicity; he ran social media for the band as well as picking future venues where they would perform. It had only taken them a week to get a few songs together completely, and from the thousands of views on YouTube and hundreds of followers on their various social media, they had developed a cult-like following overnight. Charles had scheduled their first gig for a Wednesday night in a small bar downtown.  
Charles had helped the band get set up on stage, then had walked out front to get settled in for the show. When he rounded the small curtain that separated the stage from the bar, he was astounded by how packed it was. By this point, it was standing room only. Charles made his way up to the bar where the bar tender was frantically trying to please the massive influx of customers. When he got a moment, he walked over to Charles. “When you said you had a following, I thought you were just another lying punk. This is crazy. I haven’t had this many customers in decades.”  
Charles nodded along and smiled, “Well, uh, my boys are proving to be the best. The next best thing.”  
The bartender slid him a beer. Charles had been coming to this bar from the time he could pass for a fake ID. It hadn’t been hard to get the bartender to let them play there as an opening gig. “You know son, I could pay you a bit for this. I’ve made more tips in the last 30 minutes than I have in the last week.”   
Charles just smiled and said, “We will renegotiate a contract after the performance.” His beer had never tasted so good.

Charles rolled up to his house at a little after 1 in the morning. He had helped unload their equipment back in Nathan’s basement. He refrained from telling the boys how much they had made to keep them from getting too egotistical. So he kept the surprisingly large wad of cash in his money bag. He was so euphoric from a concert well done and a goodnight kiss from Nathan that he failed to notice the BMW parked in the driveway. He was shocked when the front door opened in front of him and his grandfather ushered him into the house with a sour expression on his face. 

With tea in front of him, Charles tried to put on his best “responsible grandchild” face. Grandfather Offdensen was a force to be reckoned with at best. He was a decorated war veteran and an acclaimed surgeon in his prime. Most of all, he was Charles’s driving force to be the best he could be. He had never been loving, but in taking the emotions out of their relationship, he had managed to make Charles more driven.  
“Son, are you going to tell me why it is a school night and you are just walking in the door? Are you going to tell me why your father told me you’ve been home less and less? Are you going to tell me why I’ve heard rumors about you and a DEATH METAL?” He wasn’t screaming, but the ice in his voice sent shivers down Charles’s spine.  
He went to answer, but could find no words. The silence hung in the air like a guillotine about to drop. “Well, uh, Sir, I am, um, I, uh,” he didn’t get to finish.  
“Remind me to call you a tutor for public speaking. For God’s sake son, you sound like you have a goddamn stutter.”   
Charles blanched. He couldn’t stand disappointing his grandfather. It made his heart feel like it was breaking into a thousand pieces. “Grandfather,” he restarted albeit shaking, “I helped start a band. We made $3,000 tonight alone. I have been at practices, which has taken up a good amount of time.”  
‘I have also been sleeping with the leading band member, actually he had me bent over this table very recently…’ Charles’s private thoughts made him blush under the scrutinizing eyes of his grandfather.   
“While I can commend you on a marginal profit with your band of misfits, I don’t think that is the best resume builder for an ivy league. Can you explain to me the appeal? I just want to understand you.”  
While his grandfather had placed his hand in a comforting gesture on Charles’s thigh, Charles knew the gesture was hollow. “Well, uh, they’re my friends. I enjoy hanging out with them.”  
He was intent on continuing but was cut off by a sigh from his grandfather. “Charlie, my poor naïve boy,” his voice resounded with pity. “Friends will get you nowhere. Your mother was your father’s ‘friend’ and that landed her dead. You’re old enough now to know that was from drug use. Now your father follows around his ‘friends’ chasing his next high.”  
His grandfather’s voice was actually cracking with emotion. Charles was staring in awe and hanging off every word like he was in a trance.  
“Charlie, friends won’t get you anywhere. When I fought, all my friends had the audacity to die on me in the field after making a pact that we would all survive. I had to take their effects to their spouses and give them the news. I watched the heartbreak in their eyes. That’s where friendship gets you. When I was a surgeon, I lost good friends to diseases and problems I couldn’t fix. All friends will do is bring you down and tax your emotions.”  
His grandfather paused to regain some of his lost composure. “Now I sat by silently when you took in the little street rat with the red hair. He could at least be considered a charity case. I also looked away when you picked up some new languages to help those foreign boys. Language fluency can absolutely move you up in the world. All of those are academic pursuits whether you see them that way or not. The one I don’t understand is this Explosion boy. I’ve looked into him. Great football player but dumb as an animal. Charlie, you can’t be serious saying you see anything in him.”  
Charles floundered. How could he possibly explain his feelings for Nathan to his grandfather? Did he even know them himself? Before he could even fathom a response his grandfather put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, continuing with his speech, “Charlie, you’re our family legacy. You’re going places. I just don’t want some child’s fantasy to set you back. I see so much of the Offdensen line in you. You’re like me, I’m never satisfied. This won’t fulfill you in the long run.”  
The kitchen fell into silence. Charles was stunned. Was his grandfather correct? Would this be the ruin of him? Did he care? He had never been so happy as he had been in these last few weeks with Nathan, but would he lose interest? Would he ever be satisfied? As his head turned circles faster than he could process, his grandfather cleaned up the kitchen. When he finished, he shook Charles from his thoughts. “Up to bed, son. I’ll be here to see you off to school in the morning.”  
With that, Charles mounted the stairs filled with nothing but his doubts.


	9. Complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pickles helps Charles blow off some steam. It could be sexual if you squint hard enough but I promise that Charles isn't cheating on Nathan. No one panic yet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm sorry it is taking me so long to update this fic. It's a hard knock life sometimes kiddos.

Charles had never been a proponent for skipping school, but after trying to ignore all of his friends during finance so that he could just think for one goddamn second by himself, he decided that he would rather be at the gym. His brain hadn’t stopped reeling from his conversation with his grandfather, and he couldn’t get the hurt look Nathan had shot him out of his head when he had gotten out of his grandfather’s BMW without any type of greeting or acknowledgement.   
It was a beautiful day outside, so his jog to the community center went quickly and was enjoyable. The elderly woman at the desk gave him a questioning look and a wave when he swiped his membership card, but he didn’t feel like explaining so he waved back and breezed through the lobby and into the locker room. He was barley through the door when he started pulling off his clothes to put on his sparring outfit.   
“Ya want some company?”  
Charles head spun around and he let out a slight groan when he heard the Northwestern accent. Pickles had already put on sparring shorts, but no gloves, shirt, or shoes. Charles didn’t know how Pickles had beat him to the gym, but he wasn’t necessarily disappointed. “I don’t know how you beat me here, but I’m looking for a fight. If you’re game, I am too.”  
Pickles was always astounded when Charles got angry because he became a darker version of himself. He developed a dark confidence, and his stutter slipped away. There was a feral look in his eyes, his posture took on a fighting stance, and you could feel the angry, buzzing energy that radiated from his being. Pickles reveled in the feeling that he was about to get his ass kicked.   
They had started fighting together when Pickles accidentally swung at Charles in a moment of panic at a very young age. Charles had moved with deadly grace, caught his fist and crushed it. The pain had cleared Pickles mind. Although Charles had apologized later, Pickles spent a lot of time instigating fights when one of them was having a bad day. Now it had turned into a twisted ritual: defeat your opponent or your thoughts will defeat you.  
They entered the fighting room at the end of the hall. There were rules against what they were about to do, but everyone always turned a blind eye to them. Charles held the door open for Pickles. “Very gentlemanly, but the wrong move for today,” Pickles thought to himself. Before Charles could turn around from closing the door, Pickles landed a dirty kick to the back of his knees. Charles fell, but managed to lash out with a kick that caught Pickles in the ankle, bringing him to one knee. Charles moved with the deadly purpose of a predator, leaping from the floor and pinning Pickles to the ground. Charles punched, and Pickles could tell it was a particularly bad day by the fact that Charles wasn’t holding back and the stars behind his eyes were enough to fill multiple galaxies.   
Pickles nose started bleeding, snapping Charles out of his predatory gaze for a moment. He reached down to wipe the blood from Pickles’ face. Pickles bared his teeth and bit Charles’s hand hard enough to break the skin. This startled Charles enough to give Pickles an opportunity to shimmy out of his grip and onto his feet.  
The boys grappled and fought, holding back no bars and pulling no punches until both were bloody and bruising, and Pickles was again pinned under Charles. Charles had gripped both of his wrists and was holding them above his head. The final move between them had always been a bite to the collarbone meant to mark and draw blood. Pickles wasn’t sure that Charles would follow through based on his recent relationship with Nathan especially in the moment of hesitation in Charles’s intense gaze. Pickles squirmed, uncomfortable with the thought that Charles might break their ritual, but his squirming triggered Charles who then moved faster than Pickles could follow. There was a blinding pain that spread to a dull throb as Charles pulled away and helped Pickles shakily to his feet.  
“Ya ready to talk about it now?” Pickles asked.   
“Let’s get cleaned up first. You’re, uh, quite the mess.”

Charles and Pickles had moved to the padded yoga room in search of a comfortable place to sit to wrap and ice their various wounds. Charles tended to Pickles first, then Pickles turned around to return the care. This marked the very end of both the tension of mind, and the fight. Pickles laid down with his head on Charles’s thigh. “Alright then, ya can’t put this off forever.”  
Charles sighed, then gave a brief account of what his grandfather had said to him the night before. “The part that I can’t shake is the part about Nathan. He’s, uh, not exactly wrong about him in the, uh, brains department. I should probably be looking for someone more on my level. Logically, he’s right, and that makes me so, um, uh…”  
“Uncomfortable? Angry? Frustrated?” Pickles tried to help him fill in. When all he got was a nod from Charles, he filled the silence. “Well dood, first of all your grandfather is a dick. Secondly, you can’t add lahgic to this situation. You have some really strong feelins for him. You know he’s hot. I’m just sayin’, if you really loved me, you would share him,” Charles snorted at Pickles, “But seriously, at a certain point, you have to move outside of academia and cold logic.”  
Charles nodded. His chest felt tight when he thought about Nathan’s eyes. He had made all these memories with the man: individual guitar practices, dinner over candlelight, actual sparring sessions in the gym, walks after school hand in hand, and the best sex Charles had ever had. He also had gotten to know Nathan better than anyone he’d ever met beside Pickles. He would always recognize the sparkle in his green eyes when he was about to say or do something inappropriate, the one spot of tension he carried between his shoulder blades when something was bothering him that he didn’t want to talk about, the secret pride that radiated from him when the band got together and played his music. He loved the way Nathan took care of his hair. He loved the way Nathan would write sweet and inappropriate notes alike in the margins of Charles’s class notes. He loved the way he couldn’t cook to save his life but tried anyways. He loved… “Oh my gosh,” Charles thought out loud, “I think I might love Nathan.”  
Pickles tried to look happy for his best friend and managed to succeed even though it felt like all the air had been sucked out of his lungs. He had always known that Charles would never love him, and he was genuinely happy that his friend had found someone to love. The bittersweet feeling would fade. The two friends stood up, stretched and decided to part ways. Pickles knew where to go to continue fighting someone who would actually hurt him, and Charles, not knowing what Pickles was up to, decided it was time to text Nathan an apology and head home.


	10. Tattoos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang goes to get tatted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry for being absent so long. I blame finals and graduation (and this really heinous thing called comprehensive exams). I am back! I will be posting more on this fic! There is two more chapters before I finish this story and open up the pain fic. So if you are interested in happy, fluffy Nathan and Charles, you're going to want to stop at the end of this particular work. If you are a glutton for punishment, that one will be good but heart-wrenching. Ok enough from me. Here's our boys.

Nathan would never admit it, but he wasn’t brutal all the time. As a matter of fact, there were some very specific things that sent chills down his spine and paralyzed him with fear. One of those things in particular was needles. He wasn’t expecting that to ever be an issue, and yet there they were outside of the tattoo parlor immediately following the regional Battle of the Bands competition. They had made a bet that if they won, Charles would get a tattoo. Then, because they didn’t know when to stop, they had collectively upped the ante to say that if a label approached them, they would all get the same tattoo. Low and behold, after their performance, they were approached by a label and had won the competition under the name Blackklok. The auditorium had been packed, their social media had been “blowing up” as Charles had pointed out, and Nathan couldn’t be happier until he remembered the bet. THE bet. The one where he was going to have to sit under a needle and get two interlocking gears with a clock chain and weights hanging off of it. Toki had quickly drawn it out, the rest of the band marveling at his artistic talent until Skwisgaar made a joke about what else Toki’s hands were good at. Charles had pulled him aside to ask where he was going to put his version of the tattoo. Nathan knew that Charles was putting his on the left side of his back, practically on his shoulder blade. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see. Maybe I’ll get it on my ass,” Nathan said cheekily and turned to walk away. This earned him an eye roll and a swat on said ass from Charles.

Nathan had watched all his friend’s get their tattoos done. Charles went first: he didn’t flinch even once and told the boys that flinching wasn’t brutal and to not be wimps. Next up was Murderface: he had decided that he was going to get his in the middle of his back. Murderface did not necessarily flinch, but he did complain about the pain the entire time anyways. Skwisgaar and Toki had opted to get their tattoos with a different artist in the same shop just to save on time, but Nathan knew that they were both planning on getting matching ones on the back of their necks. “Fuckin’ saps,” Nathan thought to himself. He knew his turn was coming up, but he still wasn’t sure where he wanted his tattoo. Pickles had decided that he was going to put his on the right side of his chest, right on the pectoral muscle. Charles was sitting on the couch beside him, leaning into his lap on the side that wasn’t freshly tattooed. Nathan had to admit that he had enjoyed seeing Charles get his tattoo. When they were in the mood for sex, it was always fast paced and barbaric in a sense. Because of that, he never got the chance to slow down and just look at his boyfriend. Under the lights of the tattoo parlor and the hands of the talented artist, Charles’ muscles had rippled and Nathan had become almost drunk on the site. He had multiple thoughts of how much he wanted to be up against that body, even just cuddling for a bit. He had a connection with Charles that he just couldn’t seem to shake, not that he wanted to. As Nathan was considering this, the idea of where to put his tattoo came to him. 

It was good that he had finally made a decision because before he could even rethink his choice, it was his turn to undress and sit down for the needle. Nathan watched for a moment as the template was transferred onto his left pectoral. As the artist got the ink ready, Nathan felt a hand slip into his own. He glanced over and saw that Charles had moved his chair so that he could straddle the back and hold Nathan’s hand. Nathan let out the breath he had been holding without realizing it as the artist began his work. Charles lazily rubbed Nathan’s fingers while the buzz of the tattoo needle provided background noise. Nathan thought of everything but the buzzing needle. He was staying with Charles that night, so he spent a good deal of time thinking about Charles’ bed _or couch or floor…_ Looking down for just a second at the sight unfolding on his chest, Nathan noticed that they were about a quarter of the way done. Charles noticed him staring at the needle and gave his hand a squeeze. “You’re doing really well Nathan.”

If it had been anyone else, Nathan would have told them to fuck off or of course he was doing well. But it was his Charles, so he just shot him what he hoped was a reassuring smile as opposed to the grimace he felt. His thoughts drifted to happy thoughts. The band winning had been a long string of plusses for them. They had made what Charles had said was, “a significant chunk of change.” Signing to a label was a big step: one that they had all been dreaming about for weeks. Plus, Nathan had never really had a group of friends as close as the ones he had now. He could actually call them friends although he would never admit that out loud. Then to put the cherry on top, he had Charles. They had been on dates better than Nathan had ever expected. They had sex that Nathan didn’t think they could top, but every experience was new and fresh and better than the last. Nathan actually really cared for Charles to the point that he _even cared for the state of his family_ which was definitely new to Nathan. He was head over heels for Charles, and if that meant putting up with a no-good druggie father and an over-intrusive grandfather, Nathan could do it. Snapping back to present, Nathan saw that there was only a fourth of the tattoo left to go. Charles saw Nathan open his eyes again and leaned into his personal space. “You look so hot with all your muscles flexed for the tattoo needle,” he whispered into Nathan’s ear, punctuating the phrase with a slight nip. Nathan flushed red, making the artist chuckle. 

“Almost done big guy.” As the artist finished up, Nathan watched as Charles stood up and began to stretch. To anyone else, the stretch would have just looked like he had been sitting too long. Nathan on the other hand knew to really observe the stretch. Charles flexed one muscle at a time in a way that Nathan could only think to describe as graceful. His body control was an asset in the bedroom to say the least. When Charles turned around, Nathan could practically see his boner through his slacks. Charles caught him staring and smirked. “Nathan, later,” he chuckled. He grabbed Nathan’s hand and kissed his knuckles. “I’m going to go settle the bill. You’ll be ok here without me?” 

The genuine concern in Charles’ voice was endearing, but unnecessary in Nathan’s opinion. “I’ll be fine. Have fun giving away the Benjamins. I love you.” Nathan froze as the last words left his mouth. Charles also froze, which in turn made Nathan panic. Charles saw the panic and reached out to take Nathan’s hand back in his own. He kissed every knuckle before making eye contact with Nathan and finally responding, “I love you, too.” 

\----------

The band had separated to their respective modes of transportation for the night after deciding who had the most brutal tattoo positioning. It had been a fight, but a friendly one that Nathan had appreciated being a part of. No matter how much the group bitched and complained, Nathan thought that he would still be content leading the band. His ride back with Charles had been one of peaceful silence; Charles had placed his hand comfortingly as he drove. _‘I could definitely get used to this,’_ Nathan thought to himself as they pulled into Charles’ driveway. 

Weirdly, all the lights in the house were off as they approached the front door. Charles had barely turned pulled his key out to open the door when his dad appeared out of nowhere in a drug induced rage. “No one is going to take me away! No one! You hear me?!” He was screaming as he pummeled his son. Nathan was taken by shock for only a second before rage took over. He grabbed Charles’ dad by the scruff of his neck and pulled him roughly away. He slammed into the porch rail. Nathan held him suspended there while he also helped Charles to his feet. Charles scowled down at the nosebleed he had and gestured for Nathan to hand him his dad. Nathan just shook his head and held tighter onto the elder Offdensen. Charles eyes had gotten dark, something Nathan was not used to seeing. He trusted Charles not to do anything drastic, but for his dad’s safety, he held on. Charles led the way into his house then up the stairs to his father’s bed. There he pulled out a hidden restraint system from beneath the mattress. When Nathan cocked his eyebrow, Charles just shrugged. “This, uh, isn’t the first time the drugs have led to rage.”

Once his father was secure, Charles motioned for Nathan to leave the room. Nathan did, but pulled Charles along behind him. He still didn’t want to leave Charles alone with his dad. Once the door was shut, Charles launched himself at Nathan. Nathan was half expecting a punch when Charles lips closed around his. It was the roughest most intense kiss he had ever experienced. “I know… we talked about… being gentle tonight… because of the tattoos… but Nathan,” Charles was talking between kisses, “I need it rough tonight.” 

Nathan had pinned him to the bedroom door before he even finished the sentence. It was going to be a long night. 


End file.
